


Porcelain face.

by youngjusticewriter



Series: Keep going. [2]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alchemist!Riza, Gen, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Slight references to PTSD, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-02 00:47:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16295114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youngjusticewriter/pseuds/youngjusticewriter
Summary: Sometimes in the night when Riza should be asleep but isn't - can't be - she wonders that once she no longer needs the mask(s) she wears will her skin tear when she discards the face of her dolls?Empty, beautiful, there in the room but never the focus of attention unless the cruelty of human hands break their porcelain amour.Riza doesn't know the answer so she goes back to the decoding of her father's notes.





	Porcelain face.

The cup of tea is warm in between her two palms unlike the rest of the house. Riza's heels click against the wooden floor as she walks to her father's door. 

"Father I have something for you." 

Despite the thickness of the old door Riza can hear the hacking. She hasn't opened the door and therefor can't see, but Riza knows there is blood being coughed up. 

(Riza thinks of all the things unsaid between them, the metaphor of bridges for a relationship between people, and-) 

"Come in," he tells her and Riza does. There's a small smile on her face when she opens the door. It creaks at the action. 

(Sometimes in the night when Riza should be asleep but isn't - can't be - she wonders that once she no longer needs the mask(s) she wears will her skin tear when she discards the face of her dolls? 

Empty, beautiful, there in the room but never the focus of attention unless the cruelty of human hands break their porcelain amour.

Riza doesn't know the answer so she goes back to the decoding of her father's notes.) 

"Here, drink this. It'll help with the taste." Riza offers the hot cup of tea to her worn father. He takes it because copper is a bittter taste in ones mouth. Even her younger self had known that. 

Relief blossoms on her father's face like blood would the area of a bullet wound after taking a sip of the chamomile. The heated liquid appreciated by his throat Riza is sure even if the taste is something to be desired. 

"Do you need anything sir?" It's not a slip of tongue, a tell of who she is (who this body no longer is); Riza was raised with manners. 

Once her father shallows down some more of his tea he answers. "No," he croaks out. He doesn't voice any words to dismiss her but Riza knows she is to leave. Her heels click as she walks away without a word. 

The door creaks on the way out as well but Riza doesn't think about how she can have it fixed. Instead she thinks of how long it will take her father to sleep and for Roy to come back. Roy (Because that simply, painfully, and irrevocably is the truth of the matter when it comes to what he is. Roy is not the Colonel nor her husband.) is away. Riza doesn't know if it's to pick up groceries for them since Riza is too busy attending her father or if it's to visit his Aunt Chris. He didn't say; she didn't ask. 

Riza is not the girl who had lived in this house a few weeks back for them that have been years for her. The Roy of now, a young man who wants to help his country be better even at the chance of 'dying like a piece of trash out on the street' (his words not hers), may not be as honed and clever as he'll be in the future but Aunt Chris raised no fool. And try as Riza might to be the girl with short hair that this Roy only knows she is failing. Just like she has been failing to be present and not the center of Roy's attention that thankfully because of her father's illness is not undivided. 

Riza waits in the hall until she hears soft snores then her heels (click, click) are the only other noise in the drafty house. Riza walks for the livingroom. The phone is there (along with two windows, two doors, and an opened entrance to the hallway that Riza just now comes through). 

Riza is not a woman of faith. (She had not been before Ishval nor had she became one after the Promise Day). She doesn't tightly close her eyes and pray as she dials the number. Riza's actions are standing straight, staring at what is before her, and hoping because that is all she can do (for now). Perhaps God wants her to pray to Him, Riza muses as she waits (and waits, her anxiousness only betrayed by her heart). Currently Riza is not inclined to because of her suspicions so she simply does not. (Not that it matters; Riza soon would be speaking to Him once she decodes her father's notes on the subject.) 

Finally someone picks up. "Rockbell's Automail," is the begin of her introduction. It's Pinako Rockbell who was commonly known as Granny by the Elric brothers and Winry. 

"Hello my name is Elizabeth. I was calling to see if Mister Elric has already left or if he's still around?" 

A heavy pause between them. Riza couldn't even hear the older woman exhaling the smoke from her pipe. Perhaps she hadn't begun to smoke or Riza had very much disturbed Pinako with her question. 

"Why do you ask?" Gone was the friendliness of her previous tone. 

Riza forced a laugh from her throat; practice had made sure it didn't sound fake. Despite there being no one to fool Riza smiled after she finished laughing. 

"Why could you tell him I need some help with my pottery? Truthfully I keep destroying the flasks and, well, I think with his help I'll be able finish the job a lot sooner if he'd be willing to offer a hand." 

Pinako simply hummed instead of confirming or denying that Honheim was still there. There was a click and their call was over. 

Good, Riza thought as she stared out of the windows in front of her that, unlike her room, curtains aren't tightly shut. The shadows casted by the glowing street lamp were still but from experience Riza knew that meant not single thing. It's that that makes Riza close her eyes momentarily before she opens them. Her smile is a small, polite thing when she goes to open the door for Roy whose arms are filled with groceries. 

"Let me help." Their hands brush as Riza takes one of the bags. "It's the least I can do after you bought these." 

Roy smiles at her. It's not the charming one Riza knows (that she can close her eyes and remember) but a shy one. (A true, young one.) 

Riza's own smile grows in return. (It's a true one too.)


End file.
